


Fairweather

by alphagottadonk



Series: You're in the Details [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU-neighbors, Author Derek, College Student Stiles, M/M, Stiles is a not-so-secret Derek fanboy, note writing as means of communication, pining from afar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphagottadonk/pseuds/alphagottadonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He watched him flip to a new sheet, writing again before holding the paper up for Derek to read.</p><p>'Sorry, are you Derek Hale?'</p><p>Derek nodded and watched the way he grinned, a wide, excited curve of his mouth before he was writing again.</p><p>'OMG I've read The Burning Year like six times'</p><p>(AKA the one where Derek and Stiles' apartments are across from each other, neither know what curtains are, and they write each other notes via whiteboards)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairweather

Derek knew it could be considered creepy, okay. Some might call it stalking, but he swore it wasn’t like that. He’d been living in his apartment for a year and a half now, and he loved it. It was peaceful and homey, a row of three story buildings with perfect sized apartments that felt more like having a small home than living in a crowded complex.

It was the perfect place to work on his newest novel, hulled up in his home sitting at his desk that was always bathed in soft light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was inspiring, until cute boy moved into the vacant apartment directly across from Derek’s. He heard from Mrs. Laney downstairs that he was the Sheriff’s kid, going through college to be a physical therapist.

He was tall and slender, with a wild mess of hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and he never had his curtains drawn. Derek didn’t mean to watch him, but his desk was right there against the window so every time he caught movement, his eyes just strayed. He was just an observant person; it came with the job, watching people to try and pick up little differing quirks in case he ever needed them for writing.

Cute guy wasn’t exactly what Derek would call coordinated. He tried to do yoga sometimes— tried being the key word— but it usually ended with him face-planting the floor. He also liked to sing at every chance he got, like as he sprawled out on the couch folding laundry.

It was becoming a problem, because he was so hard not to look at whenever he was there, and Derek’s novel was suddenly not wanting to be written; his agent was not happy about that either. The first actual two-way encounter was just past noon on a Friday, when cute boy came home, catching Derek’s eye as he was working and the words immediately stopped flowing just in the middle of an important scene he was writing.

Great. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh and went for a refill on his coffee, filling it with sugar and heading back to sit down at his desk. He looked across the lot and froze when he found himself being watched. Cute boy perked up before disappearing and coming back a minute later with a notebook and black marker, writing something down before holding it up for Derek to see a bold ‘HI’ written on the paper.

Derek stared like an idiot until he could see the smile on cute boy’s face falter, pushing from his chair and heading to the kitchen where he kept a whiteboard for grocery lists. He cleaned it off as he headed back out to his desk, pulling the marker cap off and writing ‘hi’ back on it before turning it to show the other.

He watched him flip to a new sheet, writing again before holding the paper up for Derek to read.

'Sorry, are you Derek Hale?'

Derek nodded and watched the way he grinned, a wide, excited curve of his mouth before he was writing again.

'OMG I've read The Burning Year like six times'

Derek raised a brow at the excessive number, a jolt of pride pressing against his chest knowing there was actually someone out there that would read something he wrote so many times. He was trying to think up a decent response when cute boy looked down at his phone and quickly jotted down another note.

'Gotta go. Nice to meet you! Name's Stiles, by the way'  
And that was that.

 

It was three nights later, as he was working on the twenty-third page he’d written that day, when he caught movement and looked up to see Stiles walking by his window. His hair was slicked down over his forehead like he’d just gotten a shower, and he stopped in the middle of the room like he could feel Derek’s gaze on him.

He watched the way he turned to look out toward Derek and waved, smiling before holding up a finger in a ‘just a moment’ gesture before he disappeared. He came back with a small whiteboard and marker, setting it down and holding up a book with a thumbs up. Derek squinted for a moment before recognizing it.

It was the first book he’d gotten published, five years ago. Stiles sat it down and went for the whiteboard, holding it up for Derek to read.

'I was at the bookstore today and saw this and-'  
He waited for Derek to read it before erasing and writing more.  
'I bought it and Two Boys. Dude, seriously, your writing.'

 

Derek reached for his own whiteboard that he’d left propped against the desk, writing a simple ‘thank you,’ on it before holding it up. He probably seemed like a monosyllabic loser in real life, which was a stark contrast to how hard it was for him to wrap up his books without drawing them out forever. He couldn’t ever help it; he got attached to his characters and didn’t want to wrap up their stories.

Stiles fumbled with his marker as he wrote down another note, writing small words on it to fit more that had Derek straining to read what it all said.

'Sorry, not trying to be a creeper or anything, but seriously. Your writing is so poignant.'

Derek rolled his eyes at the compliment and tried to actually give a response better than one or two recyclable words, because he really was flattered by the praise, but words when actually talking to people? Not his forte.

'You're going to give me a big head and my agent will hate you,'  
He wrote back, watching the way Stiles tipped forward to laugh, concealing the sight from his vision before shrugging like he didn’t care.

'So are you working on anything new? I want titles!'

He wrote back and Derek debated on it for a few moments before giving in. He wasn’t technically supposed to be giving out any details yet, but the genuine smile on Stiles’ face was hard to say no to.

'Yeah, almost done with one. 'You Were Home' is the name as of now.'

Stiles tried asking questions about the new book but Derek refused to give him any clues.

 

The next time, he was trying to exercise when he caught motion and looked up to see Stiles waving his arms animatedly. He walked over to the window and watched him hold up an already written down note.

'You jerk, I hate you!'

He held his hands up defensively and Stiles immediately got the point, wiping the board and writing a new note.

'I finished Follow You Down and I don't think my tear ducts can work anymore.'

Derek snorted and went for his board, writing, ‘You’re welcome’.

 

They conversed pretty much all the time after that, always through notes and Derek enjoyed it. He genuinely enjoyed Stiles and everything he had to say, the way he laughed at Derek’s terrible sense of humor. He thought about actually working up the nerve to go and talk to him a thousand times, but he never ended up doing it. He just didn’t want to ruin the easy thing they had going on, and Stiles seemed fine with it too.

They finally crossed paths six months after the first encounter, when Derek was coming home from the first signing session at the local bookstore for You Were Home. There was a great turn-out of people and he was grateful for it, but it was tiring nonetheless. The wind was near brutal as he walked home, dreary and pouring rain in thick sheets that nearly stole his umbrella several times. The worst part of Beacon Hills was that when it rained, it poured.

He was almost home when he heard someone cursing nearby and turned that way in time to see Stiles standing under a small shade tree that did little to shield him from the rain. He walked that way, nerves pulling taut at his stomach as he watched the way Stiles scrambled to pick up soaking papers from the sidewalk.

"Is everything okay?"

He questioned, holding the umbrella over Stiles’ head.

"Yeah, just peachy, except I just ruined my Lit. essay and I don’t currently have a working printer to re-print so-"

He was rattling off before he tapered off and looked up at Derek. His eyes were a glossy amber color that he’d never been able to see through the windows, and he couldn’t help staring.

"Oh my God, hey."

He greeted as he hurried to push himself up to his feet. He was just shorter than Derek and smelled like a coffee house.

"Your voice is softer than I always imagined it to be,"

He informed, clearing his throat as he shouldered his bag and flicked his gaze across Derek’s face before stopping at his eyes. Derek had at least five responses he wanted to say back, like how he would really like to know what Stiles’ laugh actually sounded like after watching it so many times.

Instead, he pursed his lips, offering, “I have a working printer you could use, if you want.”

Neither said anything for a few moments, Derek watching a small drop of water trail down from Stiles’ hair and toward the tip of his nose, suspended there for a second before falling.

"Can I get a copy of the new book, too?"

He finally asked, and Derek couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his mouth.

"Yeah, sure."

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I wrote this over a month ago and I still think about how lovely it would be to flesh it out into something more. Writer!Derek is a thing I like a lot.
> 
> come say hi at my [tumblr](http://www.larkspurleaf.tumblr.com)


End file.
